Eggs, Potassium, and Iron

It's Wednesday and I'm at the gym for the first time since last Thursday. It's not because I didn't want to go, it's because I had prior engagements (none of them involving a diamond ring). I didn't go last Friday because of Liz's birthday. I didn't go on Saturday or Sunday because, well, I never go on Saturday or Sunday. On Monday and Tuesday I had work meetings that went deep into the night.

So there I am, pumping some iron, when I feel my eye start to twitch uncontrollably. It's spazzing out, and I'm thinking, I really need to go home and take some vitamins. What I want most is to be done with the gym and be at home, sipping a chocolate-banana-milk smoothie and downing some vitamins. I push through, like a Spartan.

I even torture myself for another hour after that, staying for Group Kick. Ugh. Finally, at 7:45pm I am on my way home. I have to stop at the ATM and make a deposit/withdraw some cash. I punch in my secret pin, and then I punch in how much I want to deposit and hit okay. Let's pretend I wanted to deposit $115.00. Instead I punch in that I want to deposit $1.15, which is quite different. But I've already hit okay so by the time I look at the screen and realize my error, it's too late. The machine has opened its mouth and is begging "Feed me! Feed me!" So I put in my deposit envelope and the ATM sucks it up--Slurp! The bad part is the amount wasn't $115 (that was just an example). I figure that the error will be resolved tomorrow when a real-life human takes it out and realizes the deposit was supposed to be for much more.

I blame the whole thing on my vitamin deficiency.

So I get home, immediately make my chocolate-banana-milk smoothie, and crack open the cupboard. I look for every vitamin I have, and down one of each. Then I resolve to make some egg drop soup. The soup set me back only forty cents, which is good considering I just made a deposit for $1.15. I'm home all alone, and the kitchen has been left in disarray. There's still some yam fries on the stove top, dishes in the sink, and a shopping list or recipe scribbled out in a notebook. I think to myself, my roommates must have left in a hurry. Whatever. I make my soup.

I need one egg. I boil the water and add the seasoning and open the fridge. Lucky for me there is exactly one egg left. I actually say to myself, or maybe to the fridge, "Egg-cellent." Then I crack it open on the microwave. Whenever I crack eggs, I crack them on random surfaces. The edge of a bowl, the wooden cupboard, the counter top, etc. This was the only time I got goop everywhere. I threw the egg in a bowl and then wiped the yellow snot-like substance off the microwave.

I finished my soup, let it cool, and then my roommates came pounding on the door, begging to be let in from the bitter 28 degrees temperature, all while carrying their groceries.

And that was my evening. I know. You wish you were me.